University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

SCENE I.

Chamber.
Barbara bearing a large charger of silver—and Screitch.
BARBARA.
She sends me back to thank thee for thy love,
But will not taste thy poly-balsamum:—
Scarce she endures its sight.

SCREITCH.
Why not?—she must!

BARBARA.
She would for thy sake, but she cannot, eat.

SCREITCH.
Months have been spared for study on the mess;
Books searched by candle-light to make it healthful—
But, lo, 'tis perfected a day too late!
The lips are cold for which I toiled so much!
Let her but taste it, Barbara.

BARBARA.
She abhors it.
The will is with thee, but the sense eschews.

SCREITCH.
Didst thou recount its properties?

BARBARA.
At large;
The just proportions might o'ertask my skill;
But yet I named the meats. A molewarp brayed.
A coney's kidneys stewed with juniper.
The brain and fat of peacocks chased to falling.
A running capon's legs; and swallow's oil.
But chief the goat with no white hair about him—
His gall, his tongue, his marrow.

SCREITCH.
These for strength.

BARBARA.
A hedge-pig's lights and bristles; fennel, tansy,
With ambergris, and yeast.

SCREITCH.
To quicken life—
Its spur and sharp propulsion.

BARBARA.
Gillyflowers.
Hops plucked before the night-dews leave their clusters.
Eft's eyes, dried cray-fish shells, and blindworm's eggs;
With twelve white pebbles gathered from the brook
When Sol declines from Scorpio.

SCREITCH.
What I missed
Was moss from off a dead man's skull unburied,
But trust I found the equivalent.

BARBARA.
She thanks thee.
Such pains deserve so much, at least.—But meats
Which should have helped thy pottage heal her mother,
How shall their virtues profit her?

SCREITCH.
The branch
Is parcel of the tree, though broken from it—
The flower is nourished as its stalk. In this
I worked with Nature heedfully, and mixed
Dried thistle-beards, and pounded columbine,
Seeds from the sunflower, and a rock-dove's trail.

BARBARA.
I saw thee chase a porker round about,
And fight the ram, by moonlight, for his horns;
No cost was spared!

SCREITCH.
I grudge nor toil nor charge—
But needs must grieve that both are profitless!

BARBARA.
It grieves her more to seem unthankful toward thee.

SCREITCH.
'Tis pity next to sin we waste it thus!

BARBARA.
Set by the charger till her loathing leave her.

SCREITCH.
I may not, child! The moon will wane at eve:
Our herbs change with her from their wholesomeness.
Who eats must make good speed. Bring spoons and napkins—
We two will profit wisely by mischance.
That vessel's sides are warmed with lusty health,
And many days.

BARBARA.
To make our numbers equal,
Thou shalt eat threefold more than I.

SCREITCH.
I will.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Border of a forest, with a brook in front. The Castle seen at some distance, backed by mountains.
Count and Rudestein, meeting.
RUDESTEIN.
So far on foot? Stand back a little, Count—
A little farther, prithee, in the shade!
That buckle on thy belt is seen a mile—
Or some such glitterer flashed the sunbeams off it,
Ere I had reached midway. The time was sunset,
But love outruns his promises.

COUNT.
Hast seen
This widowed kinsman since his loss last night?

RUDESTEIN.
Doubtless I have, with proffered services.

COUNT.
What said he?

RUDESTEIN.
Not one word.

COUNT.
A fair escape!
Grief tames the tamer.

RUDESTEIN.
As a she-wolf softens
Unmilked since yesterday, whose cub is missing.
I might have guessed the meaning of that scowl,
If Screitch had held his peace.

COUNT.
Interpret it.

RUDESTEIN.
The dead must first be buried—then farewell
To him and Rolandseck! Your highness keeps
Some kinsman sleek at home to carve the meat,
Draw off too tight a boot on hunting days,
Or see the hawks well trained and wisely tended?
The basest things serve best for common use.
When state dismounts, and lays its housings by,
A sheep-skin feels as soft. We ease your heels,
And save the cost of boot-jacks.

COUNT.
Now, the moral?

RUDESTEIN.
I will not yield to eldership. I have
No house but this. If one of us must quit,
He can provide another, I cannot.
Here dwelt mine ancestors, and I dwell here.

COUNT.
John Baptist's Martyrdom comes Thursday next!

RUDESTEIN.
No matter which is master, he or thou,
Here will I build my nest.

COUNT.
Thou shalt.

RUDESTEIN.
I will.
Our scuffle might have maimed the spirit's wings!

COUNT.
When will begin these obsequies?

RUDESTEIN.
To-morrow.
At dawn the day which follows will begin
This quittance that we wot of.

COUNT.
Not to-morrow?

RUDESTEIN.
We bear our dead no farther than the church,
And leave them near the altar. Custom asks
A ten days sepulture beside and after.
Requiems are chaunted for the soul enlarged,
Alms are dispensed, and masses multiplied.
Religion perfects all her offices
Ere shuts its mouth the pavement underneath.

COUNT.
Thy living lease at Rolandseck is less
By just nine days to one.

RUDESTEIN.
I will not quit!
Your highness is content to bide down here?
Small faith in scaling ladders, Count, and swords
Are sharp above.

COUNT.
My courage, matched with thine,
Falls short a flask and half to-day.

RUDESTEIN.
If both
Were fairly on the outside of the moat,
We should be special climbers, or remain there.
When will your highness take the equivalent,
And give me back my bonds?

COUNT.
On Thursday next.

RUDESTEIN.
Then come to-morrow night—bring company—
As many friends and servants as you please.
Let them not lose their stomachs by the way,
And I will find the feast.

COUNT.
Nay, not to-morrow.

RUDESTEIN.
Then not at all.

COUNT.
It is Death's festival—
I would not drink to Venus from the bowl
Prepared for grief by him!

RUDESTEIN.
Well, we are quits.
Behold, the effects we sealed upon are tendered—
Revenge and Rolandseck with love and Ellen!
Make ample riddance, and release the debt—
I do my part.

COUNT.
Dost grace these obsequies?

RUDESTEIN.
Not I—my duty aggravates offence—
That stare was all its thanks.

COUNT.
Will Ellen be there?

RUDESTEIN.
Ellen will not be there; her father will.

COUNT.
Art sure?

RUDESTEIN.
Screitch says so, Philip, Barbara—
She will not follow—women are exempt.
What hare is this a-foot we must not hoot at
While doubt holds back the dogs?

COUNT.
We might shut up
The mourners with their dead, were all together—
Lock the church doors behind them?

RUDESTEIN.
Bravely, Count!
'Midst all thy scruples, keep an eye to thrift!
So might we save a second ceremony—
Hold priest and people, bride and father ready!
But woe the while! Our coupling, to be perfect,
Wants just one-half—Ellen will not be there!

COUNT.
How is this church defended?—fourscore spears
Might hunt the ancient otter in his isle?

RUDESTEIN.
Beside the generations sprung from Roland—
His bones and theirs—time, sanctity, remorse—
It will be garrisoned with flesh and blood
Out-numbering fourscore spearmen four to one.
Blind, deaf, maimed, crippled scarce may bide at home
In twenty miles to-morrow! All her children
Will mourn this mother of the miserable.
They may not think to fight, indeed—but oft
Men fight the better for the want of thinking.
Nor will a part lack arms—What! Sacrilege!
True thou art skilful, valiant, fortunate—
As fresh as Mercury, and as light of foot—
But spare to tempt this elder nevertheless:
If thou must strike at all, strike first.

COUNT.
Not I.

RUDESTEIN.
Thou shalt fight none but Ellen, then.

COUNT.
There needs
Long wings or ladders for a war with her.

RUDESTEIN.
The gates may let thee in, while Bab and I
Do stand as porters to an empty house.

COUNT.
This song seems inspiration!

RUDESTEIN.
Fie, Count, fie!
Repent the trespassing on sacred things!
Let churches be! The child secures the sire—
And she bides there with me—a man disgraced—
A man put out of office! reprobate!
And left behind as naught! By twos and threes,
On foot and horseback, bring the best thou hast;
Then tarry here till twilight.

COUNT.
Well—what next?
How shall we hide their weapons?

RUDESTEIN.
Yeomen's weapons!
They need not hide them! Hundreds like themselves
Will don such gear, and come as colts new harnessed.
A woodman's crates may hide the better sort.
Only shun ostentation. Mixed or not
With humbler gazers, let them trudge this way
By twos and threes—do thou keep out of sight.
Death's march begins not till the sun goes down;
Thou mayest discern its torches whence we stand.
Hold fast awhile—give time enough—be wary,—
Fright not the ferrymen by over haste.

COUNT.
And then?

RUDESTEIN.
Mount to the gate, sir! What forbids?
My gentle cousin needs a comforter.

COUNT.
If we might gain the ferry-boats as well,
We should consummate! Sisters, mourners, idlers—
Old Roland's isle thronged threefold, like a warren,
Must yield or starve!

RUDESTEIN.
I will provide for that.
But softly, sir—the praises of your grace—
A careless eye, an easy-gaited conscience—
Are precious gifts, no doubt—but qualified—
Good gifts, I say, indeed—but dashed with worse—
Such be that goatish honor, horned and bearded,
Which looks so grave, and stands almost on nothing—
Punctilious pride, fantastic fickleness!
Your grace may quit as lightly as you came,
And leaving me behind to pay the rent,
Ride forth elsewhere.

COUNT.
At this time yesterday
The baron's wine was on my lip—last night
He and his daughter warned me out of doors:
Now am I free to enter how I can.

RUDESTEIN.
Thou wouldst get back again, and I would tarry.
My choice is 'twixt provision with the birds,
Or fire-side drinking and two thousand crowns.

COUNT.
Two thousand in the purse, and one paid yearly.

RUDESTEIN.
Good night, then, to your highness.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Chamber in the Castle.
Ellen, Prioress, Ursula, and Father Philip.
PHILIP.
The Prioress and myself are so far trusted
As not to break, or change, but perfect order.
We regulate the ancient rites of death—
This were in custom's teeth.

PRIORESS.
What, veiled as we!
Wouldst follow like a masker to the grave?
Is this the time's sobriety! Disguised
To walk with us?

PHILIP.
We cannot grant this prayer.
Better bethink thee, child, or ask my lord.

URSULA.
He marked, to-day, how pale she looks, and then
Thanked heaven that no such duty rests with her.

ELLEN.
Either he would refuse me what I prayed,
Or yielding, grieve the more. I will not ask.

PHILIP.
Five such processions to the place of rest
I can myself remember—Screitch counts more—
The females of the house were never with us.

PRIORESS.
Daughter, have patience; let it be forgot.

PHILIP.
All prayers, if faithful, meet above—and thine
Will rise as swift from hence.

ELLEN.
Must usage rule
Both life and death?

PHILIP.
Ay, wherefore should she not?
When might she cast her decent mantle o'er us
If not to hide our tears?

ELLEN.
You will be just.
I know not how to strive with both so wise,
And I so ignorant. Have I seemed hard to govern?

PHILIP.
As little lawless as a lamb at play;
Harder to catch than hold. The more I marvel
That three of us conjoined may scarce prevail
Where each did singly.

URSULA.
Ellen, be advised—
In this the mother will direct thee best.

ELLEN.
My mother has directed!—if I live,
I will be there.

PRIORESS.
Thou shouldst have told us so.
Nay, God forbid our scruples! what she willed
Is sacred now.

URSULA.
When did my lady say so?

ELLEN.
Last night.

PRIORESS.
The night before?

ELLEN.
It was last night.

PRIORESS.
Daughter, you dream! The saint had passed to rest.

ELLEN.
I did dream then—have patience with me both!
Scarce three days back I was incredulous too.
My little wisdom seemed enough for that.
Last night I slept, but thought that she awoke me:
Upon my cheek I felt the breath of life.
“Child, thou must haste to follow me,” she said—
Then raised, and led me out. The court was full;
Thou, father, 'midst the choristers, wast there.
Behind the bier, I followed next but one,
She first, with eyes which often turned upon me.
The prioress and a sister either side me—
All three were veiled, and habited alike—
Like theirs, my feet were bare. I wondered not,
Although the coffin and the corpse were present,
That she, as if in life, walked on before us.
While many thronged us, for the crowd was great,
My cousin Rudestein plucked the veil aside,
And I awoke. Now, shall I tell my father?

PRIORESS.
Thou hast a better guidance from above,
Than his or ours. Happy indeed, if so!
If she who rests appoint such raiment for thee,
It must be thine till death.

ELLEN.
Lend it to-night.

PRIORESS.
Not for disguise—in aid of artifice!
'Twere profanation of a sacred thing,
And might hereafter arm reproach against us.
This dream of death foreshadows death to sin;
The grave of pomp; the peace which walks with us.
Brother, what sayest?

PHILIP.
There shall be no pledge given
Constraining conscience for the time to come.
If this our benefactress willed it thus,
Why should we doubt? The earth contains no place
More sacred to us than a mother's grave.
Thither she goes to weep, and thence returns
Unnoticed by the gazers of the world.
Enjoined or not, it is an innocent purpose:
Nor does that veil conceal a meeker brow,
Or purer bosom.

PRIORESS.
We may trust thee, Ursula?
Thou wilt not whisper in licentious ears
Of what we do?

URSULA.
I am no whisperer, mother.

PRIORESS.
Nor now, nor in the time to come?

URSULA.
I promise.

PRIORESS.
Till we release thee, Ursula? Take thou this,
And hold it to thy lips.

(Gives the Cross.)
URSULA.
I swear! what else?

PHILIP.
Tell it not Barbara, then. I would impute
No worse than mirth too free, and wildly-scattered—
Ill chosen times—companions ill assorted.
Shew kindness, lady, but not trust.

URSULA.
'Tis easy
To shut her out from partnership in grief—
She seeks not mourners. Ellen, we have heard
Counsel like this before.

PRIORESS.
The time needs haste—
We must provide fit garments for thee, child.
Look, this has grieved thee, brother! Come with me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Chamber.
Rudestein and Barbara.
BARBARA.
Screitch sits in judgment on a suit thrice pleaded;
Nor will he leave before the court is up.

RUDESTEIN.
What suit?

BARBARA.
On three stray pullets claimed by Gueldt,
Which Schqueel defends. Our seneschal to-day
Is powerful with his precedents, and cites
The Pandects to the sow-ringer.

RUDESTEIN.
In Latin?

BARBARA.
Nay, they who profit by them know the best:
The parties seem content.

RUDESTEIN.
Do both?

BARBARA.
All three.
Wouldst smooth or sharpen when he comes? We have
Scarce time to night for jealousy.

RUDESTEIN.
What else?

BARBARA.
Call home thy wits and answer me at once.
I hate this butting head to head with questions!
Art sick of soberness so soon? Art grieved
To miss the time of day for getting drunk?
Art frighted at thy policy? Art sure
This second master may exceed the first?
That he will trust us better, feed us better,
Or how?—What dost thou muse about?

RUDESTEIN.
Bab! Bab!
I have outrun temptation.

BARBARA.
Dost repent?
I partly know its shape—'twas bandy-legged.
One kind, at least, was swift enough to catch thee.

RUDESTEIN.
But that escaped was worst.

BARBARA.
Than treachery?

RUDESTEIN.
If treachery, who will profit by it?

BARBARA.
He.

RUDESTEIN.
Why, thou—

BARBARA.
What—what?

RUDESTEIN.
His pocket pouncet-box—
His brimstone comfit-case.

BARBARA.
Awake at last.

RUDESTEIN.
I do feel sick about this change of lords,
Whilst thou canst chirp so cheerily.

BARBARA.
More need.

RUDESTEIN.
Barbara is hard of heart!

BARBARA.
Who made me so?
Wilt let me tell thee what I think thou seemest?

RUDESTEIN.
Ay—what?

BARBARA.
A fish.

RUDESTEIN.
What sort of fish?

BARBARA.
The kind
Which loses heart when dry—is out of breath—
Almost a coward if he cannot drink.

RUDESTEIN.
I hate these masters old and new—I love
Good cheer and Rolandseck.

BARBARA.
And Barbara?

RUDESTEIN.
This Count will hold his promises, at first;
And I shall hold his crowns. He hath snake's eyes—
A cockatrice's eyes replete with malice!
The while we talked, last night, about this treason,
He kept his right arm free and farthest off.

BARBARA.
This helped thee to outrun the fiend, belike?

RUDESTEIN.
I would have risked it, Bab, if sure of grace:
Safe in my pardon here, I would have tried it!
The bonds were in his pocket.

BARBARA.
Be content!

RUDESTEIN.
I would have done it, and avowed it too.
It must have seemed fair play. Our peace was known
To none beside thyself—our hate and challenge
To all the house. This would have shown a purpose—
A meeting predisposed by both of us.
It is but waterish wisdom to provide
A nursery for his grace at Rolandseck!

BARBARA.
Being next of kin thyself?

RUDESTEIN.
The next to Ellen.
Their son, though younger, disinherits ours.
Yet must this Count come in, to keep us here;
And we must eat.

BARBARA.
Our road is perilous!

RUDESTEIN.
Nay, wherefore is it perilous, child? These lords
Shall buffet with each other—he who breaks
His neighbour's neck, saves mine.

BARBARA.
Now peace! 'tis Screitch—
Do thou speak loud, and look the other way.

RUDESTEIN.
His learning is enough without a wife—
They ever spoil each other. He is old.

BARBARA.
I care not—he is wise and peaceable.

RUDESTEIN.
Dost hate me, Barbara?

BARBARA.
Perhaps I love him best.
Hush! hush! the Seneschal—Is judgment ended?

SCREITCH.
As thine is ended, simple one, it is.

BARBARA.
And how is that?

SCREITCH.
Discreetly, Barbara.
Dost love the wisest best?

BARBARA.
Not I.

SCREITCH.
Hush! hush!

BARBARA.
Or if I do, which is he?—Hast adjudged
These fowls, and how?

SCREITCH.
I gave a bird to each—
Each bears his costs.

BARBARA.
But there were three of them!

SCREITCH.
Our civil statute turns not right nor left—
But harrows irrespectively and widely:
Our cannon ploughs too deep—

BARBARA.
What was thy sentence?

SCREITCH.
One bird he takes who lost the three—it is
Retrievement of his right when right availed not.
He one who stole the three—his recompense
For restitution of the two surrendered.
The third remains with us.

RUDESTEIN.
Why so? She stands
On level footing with the rest?

SCREITCH.
Being sole,
She stopped the way to peace.

RUDESTEIN.
We have at hand
A harder case.

SCREITCH.
Propound it simply then.

RUDESTEIN.
Suppose two claimants, and a single pullet?

SCREITCH.
The owner takes her.

RUDESTEIN.
He must be declared.
Stand forth between us, Barbara—dost behold?
While all dwell here, she may be neutral, common—
To neither pertinent, or both—but soon
I shall go hence.

SCREITCH.
She tarries, if she will.

RUDESTEIN.
The choice is hers, then—if she will, she goes?

SCREITCH.
So she choose wisely for her good, it is:
Else choice is impotent, must be revised,
Falls back to equity.

BARBARA.
I will not choose—
At best, a husband is an awful thing!
But this seems past belief!

SCREITCH.
What marvellest at?

BARBARA.
Why, that while all beside are blind with tears—
All standing still aghast, or running mad—
Guests wondering, kinsmen whispering, servants sobbing—
That he, in whom resides the castle's peace,
Should muse on love and pullets!

RUDESTEIN.
I am naught!
I must sit still!

BARBARA.
My lord is lost in sorrow!
How should he rule at such a time as this?
Grief-poisoned—care-confounded?

RUDESTEIN.
Screitch sustains
The burden of his state and government—
Fills his high place, the prop of Rolandseck!

BARBARA.
The strongest might call out for help, to-night.

RUDESTEIN.
What hour dost think it is?

BARBARA.
The next to sunset.

RUDESTEIN.
Is it so late?

BARBARA.
Hast viewed the soldiers' scarfs?

RUDESTEIN.
Are all their bucklers cleansed and newly burnished!

BARBARA.
Hast loosed the castle ensign from its staff?

RUDESTEIN.
Who leads the household, now that I may not?

BARBARA.
What guests?

RUDESTEIN.
How many lances?

BARBARA.
Who rides first?

RUDESTEIN.
Better place all the trumpets by themselves:
The men at arms show statelier undivided.

BARBARA.
Two knights support the banner, do they not?

RUDESTEIN.
Dost mount the heralds next?

SCREITCH.
I have o'erlooked
These cares too long—come with me, Barbara.

RUDESTEIN.
Why, mercy on us, man! is this to do?

BARBARA.
The castle warden bears the coronet?
Six pennons of our own—how many strange ones?

RUDESTEIN.
Six of our own with those from Weilenberg.
Take heed the horsemen jostle not the priests!

SCREITCH.
They go the first?

RUDESTEIN.
Dost hear him, Barbara?
A skilful marshal! What art gaping at?
Twelve men at arms, and then the pursuivants.
How should my cousin order these things now?
Come bustle—wouldst disgrace thyself and us?
Good sooth, a learned Seneschal!

BARBARA.
He is
Amazed, and in a strait! I pray thee aid us!

RUDESTEIN.
What dost thou weep for—why this passion, Barbara?
Not I—who thanks me for mine aid?—disgraced,
Put out from trust!

BARBARA.
Thou dost not love me, then!

RUDESTEIN.
Well—stir, and look about thee—call the squires—
Send every man that shames us not.

SCREITCH.
What!—all?

RUDESTEIN.
Lo, this is learning! he must thwart me still!
Wilt do the work thyself?—then set about it!
All but the porter-grooms and prison-guard—
The more the statelier. I will place the watch.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Night—Castle Gates.
The Porters, and a Crowd with torches.
1ST. PORTER.
Drive them from off the drawbridge—keep it clear.

2ND. PORTER.
Good people, stand aloof.

1ST. PORTER.
Nay, good or not,
They shall, or break my mace in twain. Hold now!
Pray which may you be?

1ST. CLOWN.
Faith, sir, pretty well—
Some have been better, sir, but good enough!

1ST. PORTER.
For what? Grimme, pitch him in the moat—off with him!
Being good, he shames his fellows—drown him first—
Your very well draws envy.

2ND. PORTER.
Let us halve them:
Thou drown the good, and I the other sort.

1ST. PORTER.
With all my heart—I shall have least to do—
Scarce one in twelve. So, sir, your quality?

2ND. CLOWN.
Why middling, master.

1ST. PORTER.
Stand between us here—
Knock for his brains on thy side, I on mine.
He shall declare his faction ere he swim.
These neutrals side with either that is nearest:
I hate a double face.

Enter RUDESTEIN.
RUDESTEIN.
Thou dost abjure
Thy mystery, then, and Janus.

1ST. PORTER.
We maintain—
This simple Grimme and I, sir, do continue
Our footing here, though neither out nor in;
Ill perched upon the threshold, yet we tarry!
While some there be left-handed, swivil-sighted,
Smooth-spoken, supple-witted, seven-fold gifted,
Who scarce can bide in peace, though locked and barred!

RUDESTEIN.
Dame, take those children farther back—dost hear?

1ST. PORTER.
She should belong to me—a strange good woman!
A widow too, and poor enough for grace.

RUDESTEIN.
Why dost not keep thy babes at home?

WIDOW.
They have none.

1ST. PORTER.
Marry, I doubt her now—she is too brief—
The best have ever much to say.

2ND. PORTER.
Poor soul,
Her tears have choked her! Dame, be comforted!
Thy benefactress is with God.

WIDOW.
I know it.

2ND. PORTER.
He pities all, but most the fatherless.

1ST. PORTER.
The buttery dole is stopped since yesterday.

2ND. PORTER.
It will begin again.

RUDESTEIN.
Then what dost grieve for?

1ST. PORTER.
Have patience, dame!

WIDOW.
I have.

RUDESTEIN.
We all lose friends.

WIDOW.
Hast lost thy best and last, as I have done?
God grant thee patience too!

RUDESTEIN.
They come—stand wide!
Hark! 'tis the anthem!

1ST. PORTER.
Take those bonnets off!
Keep the way clear there!—force them farther back!

Music heard through the gateway. Soldiers on foot. Heralds and trumpets on horseback. The banner supported, and followed by Knights mounted. Priests, Friars, and Choristers, singing and carrying torches. Father Philip supported, bearing the cross. The bier under a canopy. Ellen habited and veiled as a Nun between two others. Weilenberg, supported by Pages. Knights, Squires, Pursuivants, Servants, succeeded by Soldiers. The Procession passes over the drawbridge and descends toward the river, followed by the multitude. Rudestein, Screitch, Barbara, and Porters remain.
RUDESTEIN.
Why dost not follow, Seneschal?

1ST. PORTER.
He stands
Beyond the confines of his kingdom now,
Sinking his royalty.

SCREITCH.
Hast seen this foot
Outside the drawbridge till to-night?

RUDESTEIN.
I have.

SCREITCH.
Not since my horse was borrowed.

RUDESTEIN.
I have seen
No wise man look so like a satchel-carrier
Descending from his martyrdom of birch—
A pocketer of pippins newly whipped.
Thine eyes have drowned thy manhood!

SCREITCH.
Tully wept,
And Naso, heavily—they both record it.

1ST. PORTER.
Not for a nobler lady whosoe'er.

BARBARA.
Grimme's huge red head hangs dripping all awry,
Like sun-flowers after thunder storms.

1ST. PORTER.
Bethink thee,
There fall no wardrobe legacies to us—
As mantles laced and lined with martin-skin:
No, nor yet petticoats, nor smaller matters—
Rings, chains, and clasps—bequeathments suaging sorrow.
It will require a skin of last year's brightest
To set my legs as stiffly underneath
As they were this day week.

BARBARA.
The rest find hope,
And hope finds comfort.

1ST. PORTER.
Where may these be found?

BARBARA.
Where liquor runs the fastest.

1ST. PORTER.
In the Rhine!
My hope falls flat again.

BARBARA.
The hall, thou cuckoo.
Our guests have left enough for temperance.

RUDESTEIN.
We bar excess. Ask thou the Seneschal.

SCREITCH.
There must be civil order every-where:
I will observe these feeders in the hall.
Do ye watch here.

RUDESTEIN.
Like skeletons in stone—
The bare-ribbed guardians of some monument,
Ill fed by gluttonous Death their seneschal—
Each at the archway grinning, stand apart,
And watch who comes the next.—Look, this is learning!
It makes men's hearts like mill-stones.

BARBARA.
Prithee, Screitch,
Be sociable, and let us tarry here,
While these two eat and drink awhile.

RUDESTEIN.
Begone—
Beckon your fellows ere the pasties cool;
Let every man be wise in liberty.
We three will tarry for you here.

1ST. PORTER.
Come in.
Hoist up the drawbridge, Grimme.

RUDESTEIN.
What need of that?
There may be messengers for things neglected;
We will not quit the gate.

1ST. PORTER.
Behold a sign!
They last not long that grow so quick in grace.
I look for his departure. Grimme, ask patience.

[Exeunt Porters.
RUDESTEIN.
How fares thy gentle mistress, mistress Bab?
She is unused to grief, but all must season.
Who stays behind as comforter?

BARBARA.
Not one.
Her face is paler than her mother's was!
What should I speak? I know not how to speak,
Nor what is wisely written to that end.

RUDESTEIN.
Who walks with sorrow, should tread tenderly.
Now, where is Ursula?

BARBARA.
Ursula is a fool:
No matter where she is. Well, so then, Ursula!
And who, forsooth, is Ursula? Wonderful!
Is Ursula's breeding clerkly more than mine?

RUDESTEIN.
Bab, thou art made of charity, but still
Nature can profit little by herself.
There needs, for grief and comfort, art and study.

BARBARA.
In all this house, there is but one that sees
What counsel suits a Christian, what an owl:
That knows the kinds, and forms, and rules of grief—
Nor, trust me, is that Ursula.

RUDESTEIN.
Who then else?
Is it the Father Philip?

BARBARA.
Nor he, nor thou.
Philip is great with Chrysostom and Cato—
But is he here at hand?

RUDESTEIN.
This Screitch were nought:
His studies lie away from human letters;
Nor be they deep elsewhere.

SCREITCH.
Who told thee so?
Thou didst not sound my shallowness thyself.
Are Philip's deeper?

RUDESTEIN.
Ay.

SCREITCH.
Bring out thy scales,
Then hang thyself, with all thou hast, beside him,
And see which kicks the beam.

RUDESTEIN.
Philip is chaste.
Go, feed thyself and bacons in the hall!

BARBARA.
He shall not go! There may be prodigals
As fain to eat 'midst swine, with greater need.

SCREITCH.
Bravely, sweet Barbara—right upon the comb!
His jest will shake its feathers, marry will it!

BARBARA.
Thou shalt go comfort Ellen—I myself
Will see to peace and order in the hall.

(Exeunt Screitch and Barbara.)
RUDESTEIN,
alone.
This were a merry world, were laughter mirth—
But part of it is treachery, more is scorn!
Screitch has his learnèd triumphs every day;
While Barbara laughs at Screitch, and I at Barbara.
This baggage would be baroness!—'Tis strange
That hearts exempt from fear should beat so hard!
Is expectation stronger than remorse?
I have, in childhood, ventured thrice as greatly—
With one hand trusting to a wallflower's toughness,
Ill-balanced o'er these battlements, hung down
To thrust the other 'twixt the corbeils under—
Full three-score fathoms sheer above the Rhine—
All for a starling's egg or two:—have climbed
Some nook unthought of since the builders left it,
To sit amidst their maze of masonry,
Screamed at by daws. 'Twas slip and perish then!
My kinsman's tyranny was but some dislike
To some loose practices of mine—at times
A sharp authority in his own house—
Therefore I turn him out of it!—This world
Moves likes a Tartar waggon drawn by mares:
The first are right and wrong—then force and fortune.
Who drives may change their order either way,
And harness as he will. So now they come!—
Count Albert first.

Enter Count, Hubert, and Soldiers.
COUNT.
Stop here, and breathe awhile!

RUDESTEIN.
In absence of the baron, welcome, Sir!

COUNT.
We gain the castle, as you gained your Barbara—
Almost too easily. Pass on and halt.
Eustace, secure the gates. Where be these porters?

RUDESTEIN.
With Barbara in the hall.

COUNT.
And where is Ellen?
Let us deal tenderly—she need not know
Whose house she lives in yet.

RUDESTEIN.
Are all embarked?
The rest is ordered so, we cannot err.
Run, Gregory, up the stream—take these behind thee—
Thou wilt find boats prepared within a mile:
Get in, and let the current float thee back;
Then land upon the isle, and bring the barges,
But cut the flats and ferry-boats adrift.

COUNT.
Collect their oars—make haste!

[Exit Gregory.
RUDESTEIN.
And now, sir page,
Put fetters on the impatient in the hall.
Suppose me dead, and say so—what dost wait for?
I must be missed awhile.

HUBERT.
Your highness sends me?
I serve none else.

COUNT.
Quick! quick, man! hold them fast.

[Exit Hubert.
RUDESTEIN.
This cock must lose his spurs—Divide the rest—
One half may man the walls.

COUNT.
Lift up the bridge!
Our numbers will be more by break of day:
The horse are left below. Bring torches hither!
Be watchful, Eustace!—Now I am at home!

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

Ante-room to Ellen's Chamber.
Screitch and Ursula.
URSULA.
She will not hear thee, Screitch; she lacks the patience.

SCREITCH.
Then tell her that I come to make it more.

URSULA.
Thou ever dost diminish mine.

SCREITCH.
Because
I turn my cares to Barbara, art aggrieved?
Beware of jealousy!

URSULA.
Is Barbara meek?

SCREITCH.
By blood and nature, no—she was as thou—
But is reclaimed by precept.

(Enter Barbara.)
BARBARA.
Lost! all lost!

SCREITCH.
What ails thee, Barbara?

BARBARA.
Canst not ring the bell?
Goat, buzzard, owl!

URSULA.
Thy scholar brings thee grace!—
Art crazed?

BARBARA.
All lost!

URSULA.
What else beside thy wits?
Is this a time for jests and fooleries?
Bethink thee where we are!

BARBARA.
He was a man!
He fought an hour upon his hands and knees!
He would not live a coward!

SCREITCH.
What has chanced?
Who is it?

BARBARA.
Rudestein!

SCREITCH.
What of Rudestein?

BARBARA.
Killed!

SCREITCH.
Be patient, child—no matter!

URSULA.
Who has killed him?

BARBARA.
Count Albert!

URSULA.
Where?

BARBARA.
Between the gate and bridge.

URSULA.
Count Albert at the gate?—Shame on thee, Barbara!
Wouldst fright thy mistress now?

BARBARA.
Then let her hide!
The Count is in the castle!

SCREITCH.
Who is with him?

BARBARA.
Ten thousand thousand murderers!—Wilt believe?

[Enter Count, Hubert, and Soldiers.
BARBARA.
Screitch, what dost wear thy sword for?

SCREITCH.
Get behind!
I too will fight an hour upon my knees—
They shall not harm thee, Barbara!

COUNT.
Take his sword.
We cannot spare the leisure, Screitch.—Be mute!
Hold thou thy tongue—thy mother's tongue—dost hear!
One word of latin hangs thee—Where is Ellen?

URSULA.
Your highness would not fright her now?

COUNT.
Where is she?

URSULA.
Let her not learn these cruelties!

COUNT.
I am loath
To part a second time without adieu.—
Is Hubert here? O, wait till I shall call.
Lady, I had no choice—she gave me none.
Dost think to pelt me back again with words?
That ere I came, I did not count the cost?
We scarce shall yield to Ursula's eloquence.
It is a cruel time—so use it gently.
She stands between her father and myself—
Tell her she has the power to heal unkindness—
And make all whole.

URSULA.
To-night, my lord?

COUNT.
Ay now.

URSULA.
Your highness will have patience!

COUNT.
She is wise:
The baron's ease requires it more than mine:
For his sake, she will shorten what offends him.
Go, bear my services. Now, where is Hubert?
Take Screitch for conduct with thee to the isle.
Say that I sent thee to the baron there,
In early quittance of his courtesies—
But shall be better pleased with gentler dealings:
He may regain his peace by healing mine.
Go with him, Seneschal!

SCREITCH.
And Barbara too?
Release me, Barbara.

COUNT.
Lady, wilt be gone? (to Ursula.)

Or must I spare thy toil, and go myself? (Exit Ursula.)

What need of Barbara? She remains with us.
Thou shalt be free to tarry or return.

SCREITCH.
Be patient, Bab!